Simon had never traveled underwater before.

Preparing for a trip beneath the waves wasn’t that much of an obstacle, though. Endymion’s army had developed diving suits for underwater sabotage operations under Lauriane’s direction and the Water-Breathing spell—which allowed the target to breathe water like air for a few hours, as per the name—was a mere Tier III one that Belzemine could cast easily enough. Weaving the spell into Rings of Undersea Journey was easy enough.

Simon was less bothered by the idea of entering a mermaid’s den than confronting the Bard. Mermaid Queen Melusine served as the official viceroy of Bujan and had been allowed to retain her Noble Crestone after Endymion seized the island, but the deal mostly happened because an underwater invasion had been deemed too costly to bother with. She exercised little power over the island’s population beyond its shores and her people were mostly left alone.

However, as part of the treaty, she had been forced to surrender her Noble Crestone’s blueprints for study, which allowed the empire to glean much about her abilities. Shabram had sent Simon a rather detailed overview of the Noble Class’ abilities.

The Bard: The artist, the singer, the entertainer, whose voice sings to the heavens and inspires multitudes.

Strength D, Vitality C, Agility B, Perception A, Magic B, Intelligence C, Charisma S, Luck A.

Stardom Aura (Active): Your presence is irresistible; you can compel creatures with a lower Charisma than yours to look your way whenever you put your Class outfit on. People exposed to your aura also gain a vulnerability to Mental Ailments, ignoring Resistance.

Artistic Intuition (Passive): You have an intuitive grasp of all forms of artistic expression, from painting to music and so on, granting you supernatural insight into these matters.

Voice of all Things (Passive): Your voice is always perfectly clear and cannot be silenced or warped; it cuts through any noise, and can be heard through any environment, even water or the void. If you lack a throat or mouth, your voice becomes a telepathic broadcast. All beings understand the meaning of your words and songs as if you spoke in their native language.

Encore (Active): Whenever you activate a Performance spell, it is automatically recast once right after its conclusion at no cost to yourself; if the spell has no set duration, the effect will expire after ten minutes.

Level 1 Bard Perk: Bardic Song I (Active): Voice Technique. You can sing a song buffing one stat of your choice for all of your allies capable of hearing it; the effect lasts so long as you can keep singing the song. This also counts as a Performance spell for the purpose of other Perks.

The first few Perks weren’t too interesting to Simon except for Stardom Aura, but analysis of higher-level abilities did arouse his interest. A high-level Bard could summon a whole theater stage, granting them benefits like an Abyssal Domain, improve the effectiveness of mind-altering effects, grant them mastery over instruments, call minions to aid them, and even turn their words into irresistible commands.

The more he studied the report, the more Simon could see the differences with Shabram’s own Dancer Class. Whereas the Dancer focused on buffing oneself and a handful of allies while fighting hand-to-hand, the Bard empowered and crippled armies.

Accessing the best Perks would require leveling up the Class, with all the risks associated with it, Simon thought. He might need an entire reign to focus on the Bard or Dancer before he could access Perks that synergized with his Overlord Class the best, and getting killed before he could devour the Crestones would lock him out of them forever. Simon had considered a possible workaround by transferring Vassal Class experience to the corresponding Noble one, but he couldn’t test his theory without risking it all. Maybe in the future.

To hasten the diplomatic trip, Vouivre had requisitioned the use of one of the Cobweb’s Attic pathways leading to Bujan’s major port city of Veles. Simon delighted in the irony of traveling incognito with the help of the very organization he had screwed over this reign. She had entrusted the mission to him, Casval, and Belzemine, which suited him well; her absence—and her brother’s presence—also opened a certain window of opportunity which Simon would immediately exploit.

The trio soon found themselves near the same rocky Bujan shores Simon had witnessed from a ship’s deck back when he did that secret mission for Mastemo. A downpour fell upon them, the skies so black the sunlight struggled to break through them, and the sea was stormy. Simon couldn’t see a single mermaid nearby. Casval transformed back into his dragon form soon after he confirmed there were no onlookers nearby.

“I have never met the queen, but I know where her Kitezh nest is located,” Casval explained. “It’s less than an hour’s swim away from here. I will carry you there.”

“Carry us?” Simon asked with a slight frown. “That won’t do.”

“Dragons can swim almost as well as we can fly,” Casval replied proudly. “You’ll be safe.”

“You don’t understand, Casval. Being carried in a dragon’s palm would be beneath an Overlord’s dignity. It will make me look weak, and the mermaid queen will think she has an advantage.” Simon couldn’t forget that they were cold-blooded scalefolk at the end of the day, in spite of their lovely appearance. “It would be better if we were to ride you.”

“Ride me?” Casval gasped in shock. “No way! I know you landbound creatures have an obsession with riding us like wyverns, but no true dragons allow themselves to be mounted like horses!”

“Even by a friend?” Simon replied. He didn’t truly understand why yet, but Casval seemed to have a childish obsession with the concept. “We’re friends, right, Casval? Friends are special. We do things for them we wouldn’t do for anyone else.”

“Mmm…” Casval hesitated. “My sister wouldn’t like it…”

Your sister thought so little of you that she put you under my command, Simon thought. “Vouivre wants results. She will be more proud that we convinced Queen Melusine to join us than anything else.”

“Still…” Casval shook his head nervously. “I’m sorry, friend Simon. I am not yet ready to take our relationship to that level.”

“Suit yourself, Casval. In that case…” Simon put on his Overlord armor, waved his hand, and cast a Demonbinding spell. “Oh denizen of the abyss, scourge of the oblivion sea and devourer of souls, I call upon you, rahab of the depths!”

Miasma darkened the waters and then coalesced into a thirty-five foot long nightmarish sea creature, with the back of an eel, slippery white coils, a terrifying maw surrounded by four great fins, and a single anglerfish lure shaped like a smiling human face sprouting from its front. Rahabs weren’t the most powerful demons, but as befitting of fiends that fed on the fear of the sea, they were well-adapted to underwater environments.

“What is thy bidding, Lord of Darkness?” the creature asked with a deep voice akin to a drowning man’s final gargle.

“I need a mount worthy of me,” Simon replied. “Serve me well, and I will let you loose on the Dragonsea to the west, where you may eat your fill of men.”

The rahab nodded in submission, and Simon proceeded to climb atop it with Belzemine while using Shadowchain to bind it like reins. Casval observed the scene in silence, his draconic visage unreadable. Maybe he regretted his choice, or was he simply jealous Simon moved on so quickly?

Either way, Casval dove into the water first, with Simon and Belzemine following after him. The water filling his nostrils and lungs felt uncomfortable at first as instincts honed through eons of evolution kicked in, only for his ring to filter it into air. While it felt weird, Simon soon breathed seawater with each inhalation.

Casval was about as quick and graceful as an alligator, with his wings so tightly folded against his body they seemed indistinguishable from his scales. Simon’s rahab had no issue following after him into the dark depths. They swam past vast patches of seaweed floating towards the surface, the water growing colder and darker until no hint of light reached them. The rahab’s lure alone served as a source of illumination.

It didn’t take long for Simon to spot movement in the darkness. He thought they were mermaids at first, until a closer glimpse told him he was only half-right: an escort of merfolk had surrounded them. They were the males of the species, and far closer to their reptilian origins than their lovelier female consorts. These creatures resembled humanoid fish over seven feet tall, with webbed hands and feet, green fins, and a long, sharklike tail helping them quickly move through the water. Each of them carried spears and showed off their sharp rows of fangs at their visitors, yet they didn’t dare attack. Simon could tell his Unquestionable Ruler affected them, given the way they gave him a wider berth than Casval or the rahab.

Their escort guided them into a tunnel deep in an ocean trench into a vast cavern beneath Bujan itself. Bioluminescent coral and glowing jellyfish provided as much brightness as the streetlamps in a city above ground, casting light on ancient stone houses, tunnels, kelp gardens, coral reefs, and even the husks of ships and galleys transformed into buildings. Hundreds of mermaids and merfolk flocked out of them to observe their visitors from afar.

Simon noticed two oddities about this place. First of all, the stone buildings below the water were built of old granite, bricks, and marble partly covered in seaweed and anemones; the architectural style matched that of ancient pre-Doom cities, which made him wonder if this place used to be above ground until it crumbled beneath the waves.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Second, half of the cavern remained unsubmerged, with the upper parts of the buildings piercing through a large pocket of air. Casval actually moved there with Simon’s rahab following after until they emerged like alligators out of a lake into what happened to be some kind of well-lit, underground temple with great pillars supporting a stony ceiling… at least until he noticed their curved shape.

Simon quickly realized they were fossilized bones each the size of a ship’s mast, likely the ribs of some massive undersea creature. The creature’s skull—easily the size of a house—lay at the end of the temple, a large coral stage set between its open jaws. A great, iridescent manalith the size of a large cart glowed in the middle of its forehead, providing all the light the area needed.

The temple was full of merfolk guards with enchanted metal spears and tridents, with some even wearing armor—a rarity—while a dozen small pools and enormous shell seats filled with slouching mermaids surrounded the splendid looking stage. Its floor was built of pearly white nacre, with the sides of it drowning in gold coins, gemstones, chests overflowing with treasure, and other loot taken from the surface. Casval couldn’t resist staring at them with barely concealed greed.

At the end of the stage stood some kind of pipe organ… albeit one built out of a conch shell with coral tubes breathing shimmering mist and pearly keys. A small, pretty woman sat on its nacre chair, playing a daunting hymn that echoed into the cavern.

She stopped playing to greet the visitors. She was human, having legs with shoes and a distinct lack of scales over her olive skin, with long black hair falling down the sides of her head and down a green dress. Her eyes were a deep shade of brown, right beneath prominent brows, and she boasted a ruby slave choker alongside pearl earrings. She smiled at her visitors without showing any fear, even at the sight of Casval.

“Greetings, dear guests,” she uttered in Endymian, her voice soothing and quiet. “You must be Lady Vouivre’s ambassadors?”

“That we are,” Casval replied as he stepped out of the water and onto the temple plaza, his steps shaking the ground. “Where is your queen?”

“Away on an errand, but she will return soon.” The woman put a hand on her chest and bowed rather than face Casval’s annoyed face. “Allow this humble slave to entertain you until her return. I was just about to begin another performance.”

Simon focused on her feet as he and Belzemine stepped down from the rahab and walked closer to the stage. “Impressive polymorphy,” he complimented her. She even wore shoes to better sell the illusion. “From the miasma radiating from your dress, I assume it’s one of its properties?”

“Oh?” The ‘slave’s’ smile widened, and her voice grew more melodious. “What gave me away, my good sir?”

Your naked entry in my father’s conquest book. Balzam had rated her human form eight out of ten, and the mermaid one at seven due to the fish smell. “There is nothing one can hide from the Overlord for long.”

“She is the queen?” Casval let out a breath of steam from his nose. “You lied to us!”

“My apologies, my good dragon. I wanted to see if our human visitor could tell the difference.” Her contrite bow was a little more genuine. “I am Melusine of Kitezh, viceroy of Bujan, singer of the depths, and the current Bard.”

She’s better than Casval at playing human, Simon noticed. She didn’t forget to blink for a start, and her mannerisms felt more natural.

“I heard from our friends on Illusea’s shores that Balzam Magnos is dead,” Melusine said softly, resting her head on her palm as she studied Simon. “I assume it is true? Your voice does not match his, Overlord…”

“Belias.” Simon didn’t want his true name to spread too far yet, especially in a court of cold-blooded reptiles playing humans. “Do you have contact with the elves?”

“They try to entice us into rebellion every so often. I never listen, since they offer little I do not already have by doing nothing, but it is cute. Very cute.” Her smile grew to become slightly sinister as she turned to look at Belzemine. “Elves are very lovely singers. Can this one sing?”

“With blades and fire,” Simon replied. “I assume the War and Church Parties approached you to cross the Dragonsea?”

“I did receive emissaries, though I couldn’t tell which side you refer to. I do not keep track of your internal politics.”

“Because you know there is only one voice that matters,” Simon guessed, clenching his fist. “Mine.”

“It is true I signed a treaty with the Overlord… but why would you show yourself here in the company of Lady Vouivre’s esteemed brother rather than bearing the Magnos flag?” A slight flash of curiosity passed in the queen’s gaze. “Does the blood of dragons run in your veins too, Overlord Belias?”

She insisted on the name, to make it clear she didn’t believe that it was his real one.

“Does it matter?” Simon replied. “We will soon bring Endymion to its knees and the usurpers will suffer as they must. Your naval forces would prove valuable.”

“You have also been cordially invited to my sister’s coronation as goddess of Telluria,” Casval added.

“As you can see, our god is the quieter type,” Melusine replied upon waving her hand at the giant skull overseeing the stage. “What makes you different from all previous emissaries I have entertained? What more do you offer?”

“Slaves,” Casval proposed. “We have many of them, and my sister said we can ensure they keep functioning underwater.”

“A sweet song and a Water-Breathing spell is all we need to seize our own, and we won’t risk an army invading our home.” Melusine focused back on Simon and repeated herself, “What more do you offer?”

Simon met her gaze. “I offer inspiration.”

His words caught her interest. “Inspiration?”

“You aren’t playing human to test whether we would recognize you. You shapeshift for the experience, to see our reactions.” Shabram had thankfully provided Simon with a file containing the mermaid queen’s psychological profile, so he knew how to sway her and which weak points to exploit. “It’s what all Bards want, to entertain not just the world, but themselves. The satisfaction of creating something that will last beyond them, the same way this city’s builders achieved immortality through their architecture.”

“You say I will find inspiration if I follow you?” Melusine pondered his words, her head tilting slightly. She then rose up and waved at her pipe organ. “Prove it.”

Her proposal took Simon aback. “What do you want me to play?”

“Anything,” the Bard replied calmly. “Pour out your feelings and soul to me. I want to grasp your essence, Overlord Belias. Your inner self.”

Simon hesitated a moment, then stepped forward rather than look weak. He sat on the seat facing the keys and spotted a book of bound, thin stone tablets. He checked and realized they were partitions.

No. They were Performances. Songs carrying the power of spells.

Simon had never delved into that branch of magic much, though he sensed Adaptive Spellcasting resonate within him the moment he eyed a given partition; ironic enough, considering the Mage Class he took the Perk from couldn’t cast them. His Miasmic Archmage’s intuition told him he could adapt some of the performances here into more… demonic-friendly arrangements.

This one fits, Simon thought as he settled on a template partition, his gauntleted fingers caressing the keys. I haven’t practiced the organ since… since Anna visited us at Frightwall for Lauriane’s birthday.

This memory immediately filled him with melancholy. He took a deep breath and readied himself.

“I believe in you,” Casval said at the back. A great vote of confidence, if there was ever one. “That’s what friends do, even when they think otherwise!”

Pour out my feelings, she said, Simon thought as he closed his eyes. It’ll be one way to share them, I suppose.

His fingers fell on the keys like an executioner’s axe on a soft neck, filling the cavern with a deep, droning noise. Simon began to sing with them, ignoring the eyes of hundreds of merfolk, mermaids, and the dragon staring at his back.

“The unenlightened masses bark at my walls,

As I watch from on high, they all look so small!”

The words poured out of Simon’s mouth, coming from his heart and soul.

“Finite lives, candles fading in the night,

When the lights disappear, all that’s left is me!”

That was what gnawed at him each time he returned to the Crimson Throne, floating in the void, the past drowning in darkness with all the bonds he had made and all the friends he had left… leaving him alone with himself.

“The past is gone, I can’t look back,

All that’s left is to fight forward!

Where to go, who to be,

The only one I have is me!”

Leaving him alone to face those three, judging him, the only witnesses to his deeds!

“I have ghosts in my head–” He felt icy hands on his throat for a brief second when he uttered those words, but the moment passed in a flash, “–and slaves in my bed, but when I rest, all I feel is loneliness!”

Lightning crackled from the keyboard as his melody grew frenzied, and Simon opened his eyes to see ectoplasmic purple fumes rising from the pipes. He couldn’t tell whether they were ghosts or illusions, but they swirled into a horde of skulls that filled the cavern, to his audience’s astonishment.

“I can’t escape this, I have to keep trying.” The memory of Thalas’ insult and the mess that followed his last meeting with Anna flared up, filling him with anger. “So stop biting the hand that feeds!”

In his next words, he poured all of his frustration at the constant betrayals, at the foolishness of his allies turning into his foes from one reign to the next, and at the constant opposition of fools and paladins alike!

“Follow my lead, obey my creed! Praise my deeds, I’ll give you what you need!” Simon took a new breath and then uttered, with absolute certainty, “Because I’ve got a plan!”

“He’s got the plan!” the ghosts echoed the refrain, with Belzemine soon adding her voice to the chorus out of duty as Simon fed her the lines through telepathy. “The master plan!”

The magic of the Performance took hold when the words echoed in the air, charming everyone who listened; compelling them to go along with Simon’s words for the duration of the song, like puppets on a stage.

“Play my game, respect my strength,

There’s no mercy, only vainglory,

My time stretches into infinity,

With this victory, I’ll make history!”

“Don’t be bold, do as you’re told,” the ghosts sang, but soon they were joined by a chorus of mermaids charmed into echoing the refrain, “Be thankful, be mindful! It’s alright, he’s in the right!”

In the end, that was only one thing Simon could do in spite of all the setbacks, all the pain and loneliness.

Fighting.

“I am the Lord of Dark,

My pride is unbreakable,

Live or die, there’s no tie,

Keep trying, keep fighting!”

He grit his teeth as he imagined Vouivre, the Cobweb, even his father’s ghost all begging for mercy at his feet.

“My enemies will perish,

The righteous will succeed!”

“Don’t worry, it’s all part of the plan!” the ghosts sang.

“He’s got the plan!” The mermaids echoed alongside the rahab.

“The master plan!” Casval added louder than anyone else.

“Your lord knows best, stop putting me to the test!” Simon snarled, pouring all of his resentment in the final act. “Cease thinking, and praise your king! Call it idolatry, I deserve to be happy!”

Purple lightning crackled across the temple like a thunderstorm.

“Because in the end, it will all be–” He slammed the keys, “–worth–” Then he broke a few with the final word, “–it!”

The final note sent a flash of miasma coursing across the cavern, dispelling the ghosts in a final wail and freeing the mermaids from his influence. A long and heavy silence settled in the temple, followed by claps and applause.

I… I think I’m good at this, Simon thought. Sure, he had damaged the pipe organ a bit, but he felt so much lighter and freer, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. This was… good. Refreshing.

He could have sworn he had gotten experience out of it too.

“I love the song of your soul,” said the only soul who hadn’t joined in the chorus: the Bard herself. She rested her head between her palms, eyeing Simon with interest. “What are you going to call it?”

Simon hesitated. The Curse of the Reigns? Too pedantic. An Ode to Loneliness? On the nose, but not quite fitting.

“Your Lord Knows Best,” he decided.